Thoraln Conspiracy
by Noofle
Summary: S1 Ep5. The Sky Riders are revealed, but more questions remain. What does the Golden One have to do with this? And how are the Doctor and Brittany going to stop a war that threatens not only their lives, but millions of people? Conclusion of 'Sky Riders.'
1. Previously

**A/N: Uploaded earlier than I thought I would, because one particular reviewer nagged me. (Thanks, Time Lady 802379). Well, just a quick re-cap on the events of Sky Riders.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who - and anyone who says otherwise shall be kidnapped by Sky Riders.**

* * *

**SERIES ONE: EPISODE FIVE**

**THORALN CONSPIRACY**

**CHAPTER ONE: PREVIOUSLY…**

There was a war.

And it wasn't a little war either; it was a full-blown planet-wide assault. There had been no warning, and now, there could be no solution.

It was not a fair fight.

It was a slaughter.

* * *

"We want only one thing. We want the Time Lord. We want the Doctor."

"And what do we get in return?"

The lead creature leant closer to the screen. "Your planet will be spared."

"We have not heard of this 'Time Lord' you speak of," he said.

"You lie!" The creature was shouting now, paying no attention to what the Sergeant was trying to say. "This planet will suffer until he is given to us."

* * *

"Great job," Brittany hissed, as the Doctor lead her towards a stairwell. "You've just landed us in the middle of a war."

* * *

"No chance of a quiet night out?" Brittany asked resignedly, sitting down next to him.

"No. We have to find out what's going on here." The Doctor leant back and rested his feet on the chair opposite him. "There's something wrong. I can feel it."

* * *

"Faster!" the Doctor shouted, ducking instinctively as shots rang out. Brittany cried out and tripped, hands clutching at her leg. The Doctor paused long enough to see that the soldiers only had stun guns, which meant they were trying to capture the pair, but whether that was a good or bad thing he didn't know.

"I'll come back for you, I promise," the Doctor called out, reaching the foot of the stairs and taking them two at a time.

He wasn't just going to let them kidnap Brittany. He was just starting to like her, and besides, he had made a promise to both her and Sally, and he wasn't a man that went back on his word.

* * *

"Welcome, Captain Harvey, to Tiger Base Three."

* * *

The Doctor grinned widely, not doing anything to allay her fears. "That's me. Could you indulge a madman's curiosity, and tell me who these Sky Riders are?"

The woman shrugged, deciding that the Doctor had completely lost his mind, and nothing she did would help him find it. "They're from up there," she said, pointing at the sky.

"Aliens?"

She nodded. "At least, we think so. No one has actually seen what they look like and come back alive."

* * *

The Doctor pouted. "Aww, don't be like that," he said jamming his hands into his pockets. "Life's no fun if you're like that. Well, anyway, where was I?" He paused, deep in though.

"That's right!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Take me to your leader!"

There was a second flash of blue light, and the two aliens disappeared, taking the Doctor with them.

* * *

There was a long, drawn out moment of deathly silence, then the double doors blew off their hinges in a shower of green sparks. And there, standing in the doorway, was a whole squadron of Sky Riders.

* * *

"Thoraln," the Doctor realised, "the Sky Riders are Thoraln. But, how?"

* * *

"Hold on," he whispered, eyes watering, "that's Audek radiation. But that's brilliant! Use the radiation energy as a carrier to transfer life energy from a target into a converter, where it can be changed into electricity! I would congratulate the creator if it wasn't so unethical, and I wasn't about to be sucked dry of life energy…" He trailed off after he realised what he had just said.

"Ah, bad," he had time to squeak before the excruciating pain began.

The Doctor screamed.

* * *


	2. Electrical Fault

**A/N: Two chapters in a row, for your viewing pleasure. All will be resolved, soon enough. Many thanks to "Destiny of the Daleks" for this re-write of chapter two.**

**Disclaimer: Do not own. Enough said.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: ELECTRICAL FAULT**

The only thing the Doctor could think of was the pain. It attacked his whole body mercilessly, an unrelenting force intent on draining him of his very life force, just to power a ship waging a war that by all rights shouldn't even exist. In a kind of detached, emotionless way, the Doctor knew that if he wasn't released soon, he would be forced to regenerate. And he quite liked his current body. It was pretty good compared to some his previous experiences.

The next breath he took was of clean, fresh air, untainted by any form of radiation. There also appeared to be empty space where the pod door had been, and since his legs didn't seem to want to support his weight anymore, he collapsed onto the floor of the hall-like room.

He groaned throatily and rolled onto his side, trying to puzzle out what had happened. Various Thoraln were buzzing around the room, checking equipment and performing other tasks that were quite beyond the Time Lord. It appeared that all the other prisoners had been released at the same time as him, but none of them were moving. In fact, they all seemed rather dead.

_What in Rassilon's name is going on here?_ the Doctor thought to himself as he attempted to remain incongruous within the general bustle of bodies being cleared away. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, some important detail that he just couldn't recall. He would need to have a snoop around the spaceship, but being captured wasn't going to help him do that. So, the Doctor decided to play dead as only a Time Lord could.

First, he closed his eyes. Well, you have to start somewhere, and it was kind of the logical choice.

Second, he concentrated on his breathing. Breaths that had been coming in ragged gasps barely half a minute ago had slowed to the speed of conventional breathing. He consciously slowed his respiratory system even further, until, to all onlookers, it would appear as if he wasn't breathing at all. Hours could pass between breaths.

Next, having sorted out his breathing, he turned his attention further inward, to his hearts, slowing the double pulse of his vascular system. It had been years since he had done this, centuries even. And to think that during his school days he had thought it a ridiculous waste of time to learn the skill of being able to stop his hearts.

The only problem now was that, to all intents and purposes, he was officially dead. This meant that he had no idea of what was going on around him.

The hum of voices came closer as the Thoraln moved down the line of bodies, removing them one by one from the room. It was not long before his turn came, and he was roughly picked up by two of the aliens and carried off. It wasn't the most comfortable trip he'd been on; one of the Thoraln had him by the legs, while the other had its hands hooked under his arms.

After the first few twists and turns, he gave up on trying to keep track of where they were in relation to the pod room. Without even having to open his eyes, he could tell that this spaceship was a veritable maze of twisting corridors. He would have to be careful – it would be very lost in here. Perhaps he could find a map, or ask for directions.

When his carriers released him, they didn't do it nicely. He was heaved across whatever room they were in, and he landed with a heavy thump. Wherever he was, it was close to the engines. The roaring throb of the ship's drives pervaded every cell in his body, setting his teeth on edge. A door slid shut somewhere to his right, and he listened tersely for a whole minute, making sure he was alone. He then took in a deep breath that filled his lungs to capacity, and opened his eyes.

He had to fight back his gag reflex, and strongly considered closing his eyes again, but instead, he rose to his feet.

The whole room was filled with bodies, easily forty of them. Human eyes stared at him, cold, lifeless, while the shattered remains of Hath breathing apparatus lay scattered across the cruel metal floor. _How many? _the Doctor wondered as he directed his gaze towards the ceiling, _how many were there before I arrived?_

The blank ceiling, with its glaring strip lights and snaking conduits, was a relief from the lifelessness that surrounded him, and he stared at it until glare spots danced across his vision and his eyes watered. But he had to return his mind to the task at hand. He had to get out of this room.

On this spaceship, it seemed like each room was worse than the last, for he recognised this room for what it was. An incineration chamber. What would he find next in this carnival of horrors?

The Doctor forced himself to look away from the ceiling, locking his eyes on the door. It was only five metres away, five paces under normal conditions, so he took a deep breath and picked his way towards it.

It was slow and gruelling work, half-blinded as he was by the white afterimages etched on his retinas. He didn't want to step on anyone, so he breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the door without incident.

Even though he knew it wouldn't be there, the Doctor instinctively reached for his sonic screwdriver, cursing is luck when he found his pocket devoid of his universal tool. He rummaged around in his trouser pocket and produced a French lockpick, but frowned when he discovered that the door didn't have a conventional keylock. With another sigh, he returned the lockpick to its rightful place and, in a last desperate attempt, tried the door.

It was unlocked.

Shrugging at the strangeness of it all, the Doctor left the incinerator room, sliding the door shut behind him. Slightly fresher air in his lungs, the Time Lord chose a direction at random and set off, trying to keep his footfalls quiet in the echoing corridor.

One thing was for sure. The Thoraln certainly wouldn't see him coming. That thought put a smile on the Doctor's face and kept it there as he strode off into the depths of the Sky Rider spaceship.


	3. Lockdown!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. That obviously speaks for itself, or we'd be seeing a series with Brittany as the companion.

* * *

**

CHAPTER THREE: LOCKDOWN!

Big red buttons were generally associated with danger. They stood out from the crowd, and were just asking to be pressed. Just to make matters worse, big red dangerous buttons often had important lettering on them, saying things like: 'warning! emergency use only', 'press only in case of catastrophic multi-engine failure', or, possibly the worst one of all, 'DO NOT PRESS.'

All of these thoughts were whirling through Brittany's mind as she stared at the Sky Riders. The shiny red button next to her hand had nothing written on it, so she took that to be a good sign. It may have been because she had spent too much time with the Doctor, but it seemed like her hands were magnetised to big red buttons. Before she even knew what she was doing, he finger had plunged into the centre of the button.

It was _then_ that she noticed the small, non-descript message stencilled _next_ to the giant, attention-seeking button. It said something along the lines of, 'please consult your senior officer before pressing this button.'

Brittany rolled her eyes, not at that, but at what was scrawled next to the message. It looked like black marker pen, and said 'jimmy woz 'ere.'

As soon as Brittany has pressed the button, lights had started flashing across the whole base. The lights were, of course, red. Blast door slid down over the door to the communications room, and indeed most of the other doors in Tiger Base Three.

With a slightly guilty look, Brittany tucked her hands safely behind her back. "What did I just do?" she asked quietly, no quite trusting herself in a situation involving lots of buttons. Some of the Doctor had obviously rubbed off on her. "I didn't blow anything up or something?"

Ben stared at her, eyes agog. "That was brilliant," he intoned seriously, glancing first at the double doors then back at her. "Full base lockdown – that was a clever move."

"I just had an urge to press a button, that's all. And what is a lockdown, exactly?"

"All doors deadlocked, major areas double-deadlocked and sealed off; defence systems on automatic, isolation of the power grid – the works."

Brittany looked at the imposing metal blast doors, behind which a squadron of Sky Riders still resided. "Are you saying we're locked in?"

Ben nodded slowly.

Muttering a Gallifreyan curse that she had learnt from the Doctor, Brittany returned her gaze to the red button which, though it was both physically and logically impossible, seemed to be giving her an innocent look. "Don't you start," she growled, before heaving out a tired sigh. "Ah, bugger. This is really not a good day, is it? I mean, we were going to a party!"

Her outburst elicited a slight smirk from Ben, as the unwilling soldier mucked about with the controls on one of the computer terminals. "And 'we' would be you and the Doctor, yeah?"

Brittany muttered a general affirmation without taking her eyes off of the red button. "Who puts a big important button in the middle of a control panel unprotected?" she said suddenly, as the excitement of the situation died down and the logical part of her brain finally decided to start working. "It's a button that locks down the entire base, and it's been stuck in the middle of an ostentatious panel without even a cursory plastic covering. A stray elbow could set the whole thing off. What were these people thinking?"

Before Ben could formulate a reasonable reply to Brittany's sentiment, laughter crackled across the room, and the main wall-mounted screen lit up with the image of a face.

It wasn't a particularly salubrious face, but it was human, and that was something. The face belonged to a man, and this man had close-shaven salt-and-pepper hair, grey eyes to match, and a thin, downturned mouth. Wrinkles adorned his face, but they were not the kind of wrinkles formed by smiling a lot, or even from getting old; they were the kind of wrinkles that came from shouting at people too much. It looked like the man wanted to shout right now, and that his previous laugh had actually been a terrible mistake. If she hadn't noticed the pip on his shoulder, and indeed his rounded cap, Brittany could have easily passed General Miller off for a red-necked supporter of a very physical contact sport. Or part of a bikie gang. Or perhaps both. Actually, both seemed more appropriate.

"I assume you are the notorious Captain Harvey, yes?" the General said with a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "We have you to thank for the lockdown, I take it?"

Brittany secretly crossed her fingers behind her back. "Uh, yes sir. It was an emergency sir."

"I'm sure it was, _captain_, but if you hadn't realised by now, we are trapped inside our own base. With the enemy, I might add. Do you know what problems you have cause, Harvey?"

"Yes sir, sorry sir."

"Excuse me General," said someone that Brittany recognised, but never thought she would be pleased to see. Sergeant Jake gently interposed himself between the General and the screen. He flashed Brittany a reassuring smile, before turning back to Miller.

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like to have a private word with Captain Harvey here," Jake said forcefully, daring the older man to refuse him the right. Miller glared at his subordinate, cruel eyes flashing angrily, but he relented.

"Make it quick," he snapped, disappearing off screen.

Jake took a deep breath, and looked back at Brittany. "We don't have much time, Brittany, so I'll make this quick," he said, fiddling nervously with his shirt collar. "I know you're not who you say you are –"

"But how?" Brittany interjected, knowing it really was no use denying it anymore.

The Sergeant waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter," he said, brushing off her question with those two words. "I would rather not tell the General though, so I want you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"I know what the Sky Riders want, but I don't know how to get it to them…"

"Go on…"

Jake ran a hand through his hair before continuing.

"I need you to find the Doctor."

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger - oooh! Introduction of Miller too - I am trying to keep track of all these characters. Wow.**


	4. Golden Discovery

**A/N: Finally! You all cry. Another update! Well, read the actual chapter, instead of this author note, go on, you know you want to.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. But, I have some pie. Hurrah for pie!**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: GOLDEN DISCOVERY**

After checking to make sure the coast was clear, the Doctor quietly slid around the next corner, ducking under a low-slung cluster of pipes. The engines of the spaceship throbbed loudly all around him, and he could almost feel the energy pulsing over his head through the conduits that were strung across the ceiling. Machinery clanked loudly, pistons pumping rhythmically backwards and forwards across the length of the room.

The Doctor passed a computer terminal, and flicked a couple of switches just for the sake of it, but it didn't seem to make any difference to the workings of the ship. The Time Lord continued on, wandering through the inner workings of the Sky Rider spaceship. He wasn't lost, not really. It was everything else that was lost, but he definitely wasn't. It had nothing to do with him.

So, it was completely by chance that the Doctor managed to stumble across the single most important room in the spaceship. Of course, he would later claim that that he had found it on purpose. It was probably an ego thing.

The alien in question was walking down yet another corridor when he heard the tell-tale clop-clop of hooves that indicated a Thoraln was just around the corner. Hand closing on the first door handle he could find, the Doctor ducked into a side room, breathing a sigh of relief once he was sure he was safe. But all thoughts of pursuit left his mind when he turned away from the door and actually surveyed the room in full.

The floor was smooth metal, silky silent to walk on compared to the metal grating found in the rest of the ship, and it was concave, dipping down to a smooth depression at the exact centre of the room. A machine of some sort rose up out of the hollow, wider at the base like some strange metal tree, with a trunk of hard metal. It rose fifteen foot up in the air before spreading out like an umbrella or the canopy of a tree to form the ceiling, ribbed supports radiating out in a perfectly spaced star pattern. There were no visible lights in the room; instead, a soft glow seemed to come out of every surface, reminiscent of the dappled sunlight experienced when standing when standing under a cover of green leaves.

As the Doctor approached the organic structure in the middle of the room, he became aware of an almost silent whispering in the back of his mind, seemingly bypassing his ears completely and instead imprinting straight into his brain. No definite words could be made out, but it was certainly identifiable as a voice.

The Doctor recognised the machine for what it was – the device that was controlling the Thoraln. It wasn't mind control per se, more of a brainwashing machine, giving the Sky Riders their orders, but leaving the aliens to carry them out in their own way.

The Time Lord paused, jamming his hands in his trouser pockets with an appreciative whistle. "That is brilliant," he intoned, whirling around on the spot so as to take in the whole room. "Utterly brilliant! And not half bad to look at either."

He grinned at no one in particular, and snapped his dark-rimmed spectacles out of his pocket. Eyes bugging wide and a smile tugging at his mouth, the Doctor advanced on the machine again, slowly pacing around the conical structure. He roughly estimated that it was around three foot wide at the base, tapering to about a foot and a half at eye level. It continued to get thinner until about two feet from the ceiling, where it spread out like a fountain.

The indecipherable whispering still pulling at the back of his mind, the Doctor reached out to touch the perfectly sculptured device. His fingers had barely brushed the burnished metal when he felt something … other.

The shock of the first psychic attack sent the Time Lord reeling backwards, hands clutching at the side of his head, wishing for the terrible pain beating on the inside of his skull to go away. He erected mental barriers, trying to identify his assailant, but the attack was far too strong. His mental defences were swept aside like paper, torn asunder and discarded. But, as soon as it began, it stopped, leaving the Doctor swaying unsteadily, eyes unfocused as the room spun around him in a wash of gold and silver and steel grey.

"Doctor…"

The mental voice was a sibilant hiss, subtle and menacing, powerful in its own unique way.

"What do you want with me?" the Doctor hissed through clenched teeth, eyes darting warily around the room, cataloguing every nook and cranny of the room. "What are you?"

Images burst into his mind's eye, and he became aware of an immeasurable distance, millions of light years, but at the same time, got the feeling that the being was in the room with him. The two perceptions clashed, giving the Time Lord an extreme sense of vertigo. He could see millions upon millions of stars, being born out of dusts and gases, blazing brightly then burning out, dead and gone within a second. Uncountable worlds withered and died a thousand times, civilisations rose and empires fell, galaxies spun outwards through the vacuum of deep space. The whole of time and space, creation itself, it was all inside his head, knowledge that others would have destroyed entire star systems for, but it was far too much, even for him. The sheer immensity of it all drove him to his knees.

"Stop. Please, stop."

His perception shrank in size, until it was only the room around him that he could sense.

"This is what I am Doctor," the other being said at last, voice softer, sweeter than before. "I can see the whole of creation; I can see the threads that bind it all together. I don't think you ever understood that."

The Time Lord looked up, eyes locked onto the machine. "Golden One," he breathed in realisation.

The all-powerful being gave a chuckle. "Quite so, Gallifreyan," it said simply, before lashing out with a second, stronger mental attack.

When the Thoraln found him, the Doctor was slumped unmoving on the floor, knees drawn up to his chin.

* * *

**A/N: And, I have created more questions than I have answered. All part of my master plan, believe me. Reviews would be much appreciated.**


	5. Word are Power

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. But, the Thoraln are my fault.

* * *

**

CHAPTER FIVE: WORDS ARE POWER

Lights. Blurred vision. The low murmur of alien voices.

The Doctor opened his eyes slowly, the world coming into focus. What had happened? What was going on? Actually, more importantly, where in Rassilon was he?

With a low groan, he slowly sat up, massaging his head. He had met the Golden One, hadn't he? Well, not met in a physical sense, but still, it had to count for something. And he was still no closer to finding out what it really was. Blimey, but his head hurt. Trying to ignore his brain's futile attempts to break out of his skull, he had a better look at his immediate surroundings.

It would have been a wide, open, spacious area if it weren't for the abundant clutter of computer terminals and padded couches that littered the semi-circular room. Large screens lined the curved walls, readouts indecipherable from this distance. However, most of the wall space was taken up by a translucent glass viewport, through which could be seen the planet of Messaline gently spinning through the star-studded backdrop of space. Various Thoraln wandered about, some with the strange blue armour and some without, but all managing to look busy in whatever it was they were doing.

The Doctor's current place of resident appeared to be one of the heavily padded couches; one with a good view of Messaline. Though it was extremely comfortable, the alien forced himself to swing his legs off the sofa, and place his feet firmly on the floor. He was feeling better by the second, but he was contented to just sit and watch the Thoraln go about their business.

The tall, furred aliens didn't seem to be paying him any attention, thoroughly engrossed in their work at the computer stations. The Doctor put up with this for a few minutes, but even after a vigorous wave, he was still being ignored. He decided it was time to speak.

"I'm quite all right, thanks for asking," he said loudly, unintentionally spiking up his hair when he ran his hand through the mess of strands that had taken up residence on his scalp.

A couple of Thoraln glanced in his direction, but they returned to their work soon enough. It seemed like no one wanted anything to do with him. He pursed his lips and tried to drill holes into the back of one of his captors' heads, using only his eyes, but it didn't seem to work, so he abandoned that plan, and returned to being bored.

"Is this the way you treat all you guests?"

Once again, he received no reply.

Changing tack, the Doctor rose to his feet, jamming his hands deep into his trouser pockets in the process, and wandered over to the nearest computer terminal.

"'Allo," he offered in way of greeting to the surprised Thoraln working there. "You don't mind do you? Nah, didn't think you did." He peered closely at the controls the alien had been fiddling with, brainy specs coming out of his breast pocket.

"Hmm," he said at long last. "I wonder what this button does?" Without waiting for a response, he plunged his hand down towards the enticing mass of buttons, with the sole purpose of drawing attention to himself. However, his hand was apprehended before it could do any damage, and the Doctor looked up into two cold, blue eyes.

"I wouldn't touch that if I valued my life," his hand's captor said carefully, leading the Doctor over to an empty couch, and sitting the vagrant Time Lord down with hardly any effort on its part.

The alien, red poncho-style cloak marking it as a Thoraln warleader, looked down on the Doctor with what could only be described as a bemused expression. The Time Lord grinned at it, which only seemed to puzzle the Thoraln more. _Why are you not afraid? _its look seemed to say. _Why do you not cower like the others?_

"So," the Doctor started slowly, lounging back on the couch, "Nice place you've got here. Any chance for a tour?"

The warleader refrained from answering, and instead posed the big question. "Who are you?"

"That depends on who you ask," the Time Lord replied obtusely, undoing the buttons on his jacket. "Some prefer 'oi, you', while others use the old favourite 'get him'. I'll respond to almost anything, though, for now, feel free to call me 'I Won't Stand For This', or possibly even 'Leave This Planet Alone'. Your choice." All of this was delivered in an almost monotonously calm voice, appearing to completely throw the Thoraln off the plot even more than before, if that were possible.

With a sound half-resembling a sigh, the warleader drew a blade somewhat similar to a machete from a loose belt that hung around his hips. It didn't make any threatening gesture with the weapon however, other than to tap it impatiently against its leg.

"What did you do to the pods?"

The Doctor frowned. "Come again?"

"What did you do to short out the pods?" the Thoraln demanded again, knife pausing slightly in its tapping rhythm.

"The pods shorted out?" the Doctor muttered, more to himself than anything else. "So that's why I was released. But how did it happen? Perhaps I wasn't what it was used to. Introduce a new form of energy and the whole system overloads and shuts down…"

The Thoraln leapt forward, blade pressing against the Doctor's throat. 'tell me what you did!" it roared, baring pointed teeth.

"That's it," the Doctor whispered, a rebellious glint in his deep brown eyes. "You can't fix it, can you? You're stuck here, with no way of powering your engines. The mighty Sky Riders, trapped with no way home to your master!"

There was a moment when the Doctor was sure that the alien was going to kill him, but the Thoraln relented, sheathing the knife slowly and deliberately.

"This was continues," the warleader stated, turning away from the Doctor. "Power up the phase cannons."

The Time Lord jumped to his feet. "But you can't! I won't let you kill anymore innocents. This war must end!"

"And who are you, _human_," the Thoraln spat the word as if it were something truly disgusting, "to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Oh, but I'm not a human. I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, and the highest authority there is. My name is the Doctor, and I'm saying that this war is going to end, tonight."


	6. Secrets Revealed

**Disclaimer: Yabble gwip hop shoople pop. Noogs yandel mushroom pizza cheese sauce - sorry, the translation circuit broke. All fixed now!

* * *

**

CHAPTER SIX: SECRETS REVEALED

As soon as Jake had mentioned the Doctor, Brittany had immediately become defensive, not sure if she wanted any part in this scheme.

"How do you know the Doctor?" she asked in a low voice, dreading the answer, for she believed she knew what it was going to be.

Jake glanced over his shoulder before replying. "It's the Sky Riders," he said. "The Sky Riders want the Doctor."

_Of course!_ Brittany knew the Sky Riders seemed familiar. They had exactly the same body shape as the snowglobe-toting Thoraln. _Coincidence? I think not,_ she added silently to herself. Another question sprang to her mind.

"What makes you think I can find the Doctor for you?" she queried, locking the man with a piercing glare. "We might not even be talking about the same person."

Sampson shrugged. "Let me just say, a soldier's first responsibility is to his planet and, by default, his superior officers."

Understanding the cryptic remark perfectly, Brittany rounded on Mitchells, anger flashing in her eyes. "Well, thanks for keeping it a secret, Ben," she growled, resigning herself to the fact that perhaps she didn't have any friends in this place after all.

Ben looked hurt. "I thought it was the right thing to do," he started to insist, but Brittany cut him off with a steely glare.

"So," she said, turning back to Jake, "you've rumbled me. Now what?"

Sampson responded with a slightly indifferent shrug. "I just need you to find me the Doctor. After that, you can do whatever you wish."

Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to come to a decision. She didn't doubt that the Doctor would put everything right if she managed to get him to the base, but he was her friend, and if that meant putting him in danger, she wouldn't do it. "Hard decision boss," she said snidely, drumming her fingers on the computer terminal before her. "And if I agreed to this, how would I find him? There are a million places you could hide in this city. And he's very good at hiding, and even better at running."

Jake wasn't to be put off. "But we have to find him!"

"Oh, I like that," Brittany chuckled. "It's 'we' instead of 'you' now, is it? Hold on, what's that?" A small light was flashing in the corner of the screen, pulsing between blue and red.

Jake immediately set to work on some unseen control panel. "Incoming signal, let me patch it through…there!"

The wall-mounted screen upon which the image of Jake was being shown split in half, the control room link-up pushed to the left. A couple of curious soldiers, Miller included, peered over the Sergeant's shoulders, all wanting to know what was going on. The right side of the screen buzzed with static, slowly clarifying to reveal the bridge of a spaceship.

Brittany recognised the alien occupants of the room instantly. "I was right," she breathed. "The Sky Riders are Thoraln." But it was the figure sitting behind the Thoraln that caught her attention.

"Doctor!" she cried, spotting the Time Lord already in the clutches of the Sky Riders.

The Doctor in question stopped cleaning his glasses and looked up at whatever passed for a screen at his end of the link-up. "Brittany? What are you doing down there?"

"Saving the world," his understandably surprised companion retorted. "And what about you?"

The Doctor grinned at her as he stuck his glasses in his trouser pocket. "Likewise. It's not as bad as it might seem. However, no one seems to have offered me a cup of tea yet, imagine that. No tea. Blimey, what is the universe coming to?"

Jake raised an eyebrow. "That's the Doctor?" he remarked, a disappointed feel to both his voice and expression. "Our survival depends on some skinny idiot with an obsession for tea? God, we'd be better off underground drinking out own –"

"That's quite enough information," Brittany said with a glower. "No need to go into the grisly details."

"Who's the loud-mouthed imbecile?" the Doctor queried, not unkindly, but in a mater-of-fact tone of voice.

"Sergeant Jake Sampson," the Sergeant snapped, more than a little bit annoyed.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Spend all night trying to survive, only to get insulted by a Sergeant. I'm telling you, this universe is falling apart. I should very much like to speak to your senior officer."

"Enough!"

The Thoraln warleader interposed itself between the Doctor and the screen, canine features lending it an intimidating aura. "I have had enough of this ceaseless chatter! I must speak to the commander of Tiger Base Three!"

Behind the imposing alien, the Doctor started making heavily exaggerated facial expressions, obviously mocking the unsuspecting Thoraln. Brittany hid a chuckle, and the Doctor's antics elicited a slight smirk from Ben.

On the left half of the communication room's screen, Miller stepped forward, adjusting his already perfectly positioned rounded cap. "I can speak for this base," he said, his voice low, scratchy and rough. 'I am General Miller of the Messaline Armed Forces."

The Thoraln sneered, an expression that the Doctor did a very good impression of. So good, that Brittany had a hard time concealing her mirth.

"Well, know this General Miller," the warleader growled, "know that now that we have the Doctor, this planet is of no more use to us. It will burn, you along with it. We will have a victory, soldier."

The Time Lord paused in his mocking, an expression of deep thought passing across his face. It looked like the I'm-hatching-a-clever-and-altogether-amazingly-brilliant-plan-so-don't-disturb-me-you-idiot-human face to Brittany, but before she had a chance to remark on either that, or the Thoraln's plans, the link-up terminated.

Quite a long silence followed.

Then Miller spoke.

"Ready missile silo five," he growled, "because I'll be damned if I give those furry bastards a victory."

"But you can't!" Jake objected vehemently. "That's an antimatter missile. The explosion could backlash and wipe out half the continent! Thousands will die!"

"A necessary sacrifice."

"I can't let you do that!" Jake roared, leaping for the controls.

"Restrain him," the General barked, and two soldiers immediately leapt forward to obey, dragging the Sergeant away from anything he could sabotage.

"Brittany, you have to get to the missile silo!" Jake shouted, struggling to break free. "Shut it down manually. You can't let those people die!"

"But how?" she implored. "We're trapped in here."

"Listen!" was all Sampson managed to say, before Miller stepped in to cut off the conversation.

"I hope you're not thinking of doing anything rash," the General said, leaning in so close to the screen that Brittany could pick out every detail on his pockmarked face. "I think you should consider where your loyalties lie, Miss Harvey. Consider it very carefully."

The screen went black.

Brittany turned to Ben.

"What did he mean by listen?"


	7. Made of Gold

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. I am forever cursed to write inane fanfiction...

* * *

**

CHAPTER SEVEN: MADE OF GOLD

"But you can't slaughter a whole planet! That's genocide! There must be another option," the Doctor objected loudly, having little luck dissuading the Thoraln from their chosen course of action. "There's always another option."

The warleader turned to the Time Lord, murder in its eyes. "This time, there is no choice," it growled, before gesturing to two of the guards in the room. "Hold him."

The two Thoraln grabbed an arm each, not giving the Doctor a chance to escape. He glared at them, but prudently refrained from struggling. Those spears looked nasty.

"So, I'll bet it wasn't the High Council who put you up to this," the Doctor reasoned, gauging the distance to the door. "'Cause no matter what was happening, they wouldn't sanction the slaughter of an entire planet.

"No, no, don't tell me. I know who it is. It's this mysterious Golden One of yours. Of course it's the Golden One. Go on; tell me it's the Golden One."

The bridge fell dead silent, all eyes on him.

He shrugged. "First decent reaction I've gotten from you lot all day," he remarked, somewhat inanely, before continuing with, "Who is this Golden One anyway?"

The Sky Rider warleader narrowed its eyes. "What do you know of the Golden One?" the alien hissed, hand straying to the grip of its blade.

The Doctor shrugged again. "I don't know," he said rebelliously, "you tell me."

The warleader started towards him, but paused without warning, eyes slightly unfocused. Then the sudden lapse was over, and the Thoraln darted its head around to stare at the Doctor with an almost reptilian quality to the movements.

Then, the Thoraln spoke, with a voice that was not its own. "Doctor, I tire of your meddling," the new voice hissed, sibilant yet soft, almost feminine.

One of the Gallifreyan's eyebrows arched up of its own accord. "Am I speaking to the Golden One?"

The warleader inclined its head.

"Well then," the Doctor continued amiably, "I'm sure we got off on the wrong foot before, hey? We can have a good chat now, right?"

"I think the time for chatting is over, don't you?" The Doctor watched as the machete-blade was drawn from its sheath, a worried expression crossing his face. Somehow it looked…sharper…than before. Logically impossible of course, but since when had he listened to logic? He careered all over the cosmos in a little blue box, after all. How much more illogical were self-sharpening blades?

"Look, I think you're making a rather big mistake, you know," he said, watching the blade come closer and closer.

The Golden One laughed through the Thoraln warleader, a bone-chilling demented yipping noise that lingered for far longer than it should have in the mind. "What? Killing you?"

"There are others, but I'd say that's the major one, yeah," the Doctor replied. "I would really prefer not to be killed, if that's fine by you. I have far better things to do today than die." He smiled quite hopefully, but the warleader continued its advance.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I have waited far too long for my revenge."

The Doctor faltered. "I'm sorry, revenge? I've never heard of you before Golden One," he said, trying to shy away from the advancing knife, but the Thoraln guards held him firmly in place.

"Oh, Doctor – sometimes you can be so naïve. I went by a different name back then, but I don't think I should tell you. That would be too much of a victory. I think you should go to your deathbed without knowing, don't you?"

The Gallifreyan bit his lip. "Ah, well, you see, that brings us to another one of your mistakes," he said pointedly, speeding through his words almost unintelligibly. "If you're going to hold a man by his sleeves, I would first check to make sure his jacket wasn't unbuttoned." He had enough time for a wink before he slipped out of his jacket and made a run for it, leaving the Thoraln holding no more than an empty item of clothing.

He vaulted over everything in his path, making for the door as fast as he could. Dipping and ducking and weaving around obstacles, he was there within fifteen seconds, possibly setting a world record along the way. The door slid open beneath his hand, and he had the sense to spare one last look over his shoulder, spotting in good time the weapon that was heading straight for his head.

He ducked, the blade flying straight over the crown of his skull to bury itself into the wall, grip quivering from the impact. The Doctor yanked it out of the wall and, after giving the warleader a mock salute with the curved blade, he sprinted down the corridor.

It did not take him long to find what he wanted, and he entered the room containing the mind-control device with a certain amount of reverence and caution. But as he got closer to the machine, he could tell that the Golden One's presence wasn't in this room anymore, and that gave him the chance to work in peace.

"I don't know who you are, Golden One," he said to the room at large, testing the sharpness of the blade, "but you're not going to have this planet while I'm here."

With a shout, he brought the blade around in a tight arc. And, as the weapon bit into the machine, he heard a voice in his head, an uncontrollable roar of defeat.


	8. Listen

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait, I've been on holiday and only just got back a couple of days ago. Yeah, lame excuse.**

**Disclaimer: I doth not own Doctor Who. Except for a few measly DVD's. *sigh*

* * *

**

CHAPTER EIGHT: LISTEN

Brittany retraced her steps again, spinning on her heels once she reached the wall. "What did he mean by listen?" she asked Ben, but the soldier only shrugged and returned to trying to override the door's deadlock seal. "It must mean something though," she insisted, still pacing. "He never did finish his sentence, did he?"

"I wouldn't know," Ben droned, smacking the door's lock a couple of times with the butt of his laser rifle. "Confounded thing; can't shift it."

"There's a whole squadron of Sky Riders behind there. Don't know why you'd want to."

Ben leapt to his feet, shooting Brittany an exasperated look. "Maybe that's what the Sergeant meant by listen!" he shouted angrily, lashing out at the wall with his foot.

Brittany looked at him curiously. "What?"

"You just won't shut up!" Ben roared. "Maybe if you shut your gob for once and actually listened, we might get out of this alive!"

His words stung Brittany, and she fell silent. No one had talked to her like that before, not even the Doctor, and it hurt. _Sticks and stones_, she thought to herself, _how wrong they were._

That was when she heard it. That quiet, almost undiscernible hum, throbbing away in the background. The tell-tale sound of an air ventilation system.

"I knew that Sampson was clever," she said with a mischievous grin, manoeuvring a chair over to one of the walls, "but I didn't realise just how clever." Gesturing at the one active computer terminal, she said, "Find us a map of the vent system, while I get this cover off." Once again, the sonic screwdriver came out of her pocket as she clambered up onto the chair, bringing her shoulders level with a square grating on the wall. There was some kind of magnetic lock holding it in place, but a few bursts from the sonic screwdriver soon solved that, and the cover fell away in her hands.

Chucking the grating away, she peered down into the shaft. It looked big enough to take both her and Ben, but lighting might be a problem, seeing as it was almost completely dark. And, if they were moving through a completely dark shaft, it would be all too easy to run into whichever fan was making that persistent humming sound.

Ben tapped her on the back of her leg. "I've printed off a map," he said, waving a sheet of paper around, "but are you sure you want to do this?"

Brittany gave him a patronising look. "It will save countless lives," she said, already hauling herself up into the shaft and lowering a hand for Ben, "so you can stuff your General's orders, hand me a flashlight and get up here right now."

"Yes ma'am," Ben said in surprise, handing her the light from his rifle and accepting the offered hand. She helped him up, and the two set off down the ventilation shaft, crawling on their hands and knees.

"You do this often?" Ben asked after a while, checking the map he'd printed off.

Brittany chuckled, peering down a side shaft with the flashlight. "Crawling down ventilation shafts, no. Throwing myself into unnecessary danger, yeah, quite a bit." She sighed. "It's all rather complicated, really."

"You are completely mad, you know that?"

"That wouldn't be the first time somebody has said that to me. Probably not the last either." They passed over a grating, through which could only be seen a room full of cardboard packing crates. "How much further?"

"Next left, then about thirty metres," Ben responded strongly, pointing down the shaft.

The time traveller nodded, knocking her head on the ceiling in the process, and took the first left, spotting a dim square of light in the distance. "That was easier than I expected," she remarked, readying the sonic screwdriver.

Ben tucked the map away, and checked that his rifle was within reach. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, worried that the lady in front of him might end up blowing up the whole base by accident.

"No," she replied simply, "but it's more fun that way, isn't it? And besides, I have you to help me."

"Okay, because that makes me feel so much better," he said nervously just as they reached the end of the shaft. Once again, Brittany applied the sonic screwdriver to the grating, disabling the magnetic lock with ease. She pulled the loose cover inside, then peered out.

It was definitely a silo, that was for sure. For one, it was silo-shaped, a massive cylindrical room that stretched upwards for five storeys, at the very least. There was some kind of pit in the centre of the room, surrounded by a complex web of machinery, which Brittany could not discern any possible use for other than to look hi-tech. It made the spaceport on Sydoriv look like a bare patch of concrete. The only other notable features of the silo were the metal staircase that coiled up the wall, leading to a glass-windowed control room, and the huge, fifteen-metre tall stencilled letters, proclaiming that this was Central Silo.

"Well, let's get to it," Brittany said, dropping the short distance to the floor. "We've got a missile to stop." Ben followed her to the foot of the staircase, and they'd only just begun their ascent when the purpose of the silo's machinery became apparent.

The clanking apparatus spun with smooth precision, mechanised track lining up with one of the previously unnoticed blast doors set into the wall. The blast doors, which proclaimed in large letters, 'Silo Five, Keep Clear', slowly ground open, revealing another piece of machinery that linked up with its twin in the Central Silo. Then, moving sedately along the track, came a missile, a sleek cone shaped device in shiny black metal, with pointed stabilising flanges and warning colours slapped all over it. It came to rest in the central pit, the machinery holding it in place folding away to a safe distance.

"T minus five minutes to launch," a smooth electronic voice announced as an alarm started blaring.

Brittany and Ben both looked up at the mass of stairs before them. "Bugger," they said simultaneously.


	9. Race Against Time

**A/N: This chapter went through a bit of a re-write, which is why it was a bit longer in coming. Kinda getting towards the end now. I must say, the next episode is completely different to this one. Anyway, read on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. But I do....no, actually, no I don't. Damn.

* * *

**

CHAPTER NINE: RACE AGAINST TIME

Breaths coming hard and fast from exertion, Brittany pounded up the stairs, her feet making a rhythmic clang-clang on the metal steps. Concrete wall to one side, a quite fatal drop on the other she ran, keeping one hand on the railing for support.

"T minus four minutes," the computerised voice announced. "Clear the silo. Repeat: clear the silo."

"We're not going to make it," Ben panted, not far behind Brittany.

"Yes we are," she hissed, more to convince herself than anything. "No more deaths, not tonight. We are going to make it."

"T minus three minutes, thirty seconds."

Down below, the machinery retracted into recessed in the wall and floor, presenting an unbroken surface of heat resistant metal and concrete. External openings, including doors and ventilation shafts were sealed over, and a low rumble started up as the missile's engines began to build power.

"T minus three minutes. Area secure. Blast doors sealing."

Wasn't far to go now, only a few metres, but the door to the control room was sealing itself, metal blast doors cutting it off from the silo. The staircase began to slide back into the wall, making it harder and harder to run.

"T minus two minutes, forty seconds."

"Come on!" Brittany roared, grabbing Ben by the arm and dragging him up the last two metres; diving through the door just before it slammed shut with a resounding boom.

"Okay," she said breathlessly, "now what?"

The control room was just a mass of flashing lights, switches and buttons galore. Everything in the room was blinking, a mess to the untrained eye.

Ben moved her out of the way and sat down in front of a terminal overlooking the entire silo. "Let's have a look," he said, sweat beading on his brow as he drew a large folder out of a desk draw.

"T minus two minutes. Launch procedures initiated."

An electronic counter on the wall clicked down, accompanied by a stereotypical beep each time the number changed. Ben tapped in a command, but it didn't appear to do anything. His brow furrowed as he tried command after command, but nothing was working.

"T minus one minute."

"Can't we just pull the plug?" Brittany suggested in desperation, ripping the folder from Ben's hands and rifling through it. "Cut the electricity?"

Ben shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand, obviously stressed. "I can't stop it," he said as the countdown ticked over. "I can't stop the missile!"

"T minus thirty seconds."

"I don't know what to do," he muttered, helmet flopping down over his eyes. "I can't do this!"

"T minus twenty seconds."

Brittany jabbed a finger at the controls. "There, that button there!"

"What?"

"That big yellow button, press it!"

"T minus ten seconds … nine … eight … seven …"

Ben took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slammed his hand down on the button Brittany had indicated.

Silence.

Both Brittany and Ben turned to the counter on the wall, but the number had stopped changing. It was a single, unmoving six.

"Countdown terminated. Launch aborted," the computer announced, before falling silent.

"Emergency stop, every system has one!" Brittany cried, enveloping Ben in a hug, but the relief was short-lived, when the face of General Miller appeared on one of the screens, scowling heavily.

"Harvey and Mitchell," he growled, "you are choosing a course with very dire consequences…"

"Miller, you can stuff your consequences where the sun doth not shine, thank you very much," Brittany spat, checking a piece of information from the folder before pressing a couple of discreet buttons. "We're locking you out of the system."

The General gaped at her. "Mitchells," he spluttered, "stop her!"

Ben shrugged, and tore the insignia off of his already frayed uniform. "Sorry sir, but I'm going AWOL at the moment. Don't expect me to come back any time soon."

Miller turned to look at the soldiers behind him. "Do something!" he cried, desperate for any leverage, now that his power was slipping away. "Override their commands! Just bloody do something!"

The soldiers just stepped aside to let through a single figure, who folded his arms and locked Miller with a steely glare. "I'm relieving you of your duty, general," Sergeant Jake Sampson stated, with a tone that said that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Now, step aside, and we might actually get something done here."

Brittany half expected Miller to leap at Jake, but the older man just stepped aside meekly, all the fight gone out of him. No one had stood up to him before, and he obviously couldn't handle it.

Jake gave the two in the missile silo a wink. "Good work," he said. "You've done Messaline a great service. If there is anything you need, I give my word that Messaline will give whatever aid it can."

Ben just shook his head. "I just want to go home."

Brittany, however, had bigger things on her mind. "You wouldn't happen to have an EMP lying around anywhere, would you? It's just that the only way to take care of the Sky Riders is to knock out their mind control, and the only way to do that from here is with and electromagnetic pulse." Seeing Jake's blank look, she added, "Trust me, it makes sense."

"That's a big ask…"

"You gave your word," Brittany pointed out. "Please, everyone's life depends on this. If the Sky Riders aren't taken care of, they could still destroy this world, Miller or no."

Jake sighed. "As much as I hate to do this, you're right. It's in silo 3. Though you probably would have worked that out for yourself if I hadn't told you."

Brittany turned to Ben. "Let's fire that missile."


	10. A Conflict of Ideas

**A/N: Yay, another chapter! Don't forget to leave reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Doctor Who. That is the property of the BBC. Oh well.

* * *

**

CHAPTER TEN: A CONFLICT OF IDEAS

The EMP missile streaked silently through space, a spindly construction of metal heading straight for the Thoraln ship. With a squeal of metal, the missile pierced the ship's outer hull, claws unfolding to hold it in place. Then, just as planned, the weapon released a burst of highly concentrated electromagnetic energy that fried every electronic system hooked up to the spaceship's generator.

* * *

The Doctor had only just finished reducing what he could reach of the mind control machine to a twisted mess of warped metal. The warleader's blade was now severely blunted, and useless to anyone except as a memento. He was just turning to leave the room when the EMP hit.

The ship shuddered violently from the impact, and squeals of protesting metal rang out as the missile's claws dug in. Then everything fell into darkness.

Pulling a tiny penlight from his pocket, the Doctor raced for the bridge of the ship, passing numerous confused Thoraln on the way. The door to the bridge was hanging open, electronic lock completely dead, so he burst in flashing his penlight around the large room. It was nearly pitch black, other than the light he was flashing around madly and the slight glow that came in through the window.

"Everyone alright?" he called out. "No one injured?"

There was a low murmur of 'yes' as the Doctor ran to the warleader's side and looked up at the alien, which was a good two feet taller than him. "Any idea what happened?" he queried, punching a few buttons on the dead computer before him. "Looks like you've been hit by an EMP to me."

The taller Thoraln looked down on him and nodded. "That's what I believe," it said. "Look, I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean any of it.

"Happens to me a lot, think nothing of it." The Doctor waved a hand flippantly. "I don't really mind. Our real problem is that we have no power, and if we have no power, we have no air filtration system. And that is one hell of a problem."

"The air is going to run out," the warleader realised.

The Doctor nodded. "It is a bit of a doozy, isn't it?" He thought for a moment. "Do you have escape pods? Emergency back-up?"

"Yes, but they would have gone down with the rest of the systems."

"You didn't think to have shielding?" The Doctor shook his head in dismay. "I'll try to fix it, but I can't promise anything."

He tore the cover off a computer hastily, as he knew he didn't have much time left. He could already feel his breath getting short.

* * *

With numerous amounts of crashes and bangs, Brittany and Ben tumbled out of an air vent and a box-filled storage room. Brittany looked up, and immediately spotted what she was looking for.

The TARDIS was sitting in the corner, a large blue box so far out of its time and yet, it just kind of fitted in.

"Hello old girl," Brittany cooed, running her hands along the wooden exterior. "Boy, am I glad to see you." She reached down to where her key was hanging around her neck on a slender steel chain, and fitted the small Yale-type key into the lock. The door softly creaked inwards, and she gestured for Ben to enter. "Go in."

"What, in there?"

"Yes, in there."

Ben shrugged, and stepped inside the blue police box. There was a moment of silence.

Then: "That is **impossible**!"

With a grin, Brittany entered the TARDIS, closing the door behind her. The timeship hummed pleasantly, as though it was happy to see her. The thirty-eighth century human ran her hands over the controls, completely at a loss about how to drive the ship. Sure, the Doctor had shown her a little bit, but it was overly complicated. The Doctor said he had hundreds of years of experience at flying his ship, and look how bumpy his landings were.

Brittany bit her lip. Hang on; what was that thing that the Doctor had told her? About his ship being telepathic? Maybe if she just asked nicely, the TARDIS would help her.

"TARDIS?" Brittany asked, not sure about this plan at all, "take me to the Doctor."

And although the TARDIS did not utter a word, she was certain it replied to her.

_Yes Brittany, we shall find him._

* * *

"Come on, work," the Doctor hissed under his breath as he clung onto one of the bridge's computer terminals. "You've got to work, please!"

Apart from his curses and ragged breaths, the bridge was deathly silent, as slowly, one by one, the Thoraln had succumbed to the lack of oxygen in the air. They were still alive, lying about on the numerous padded couches, and where there was life, there was hope.

The Doctor thumped a few more buttons, and kicked the computer just for the hell of it. "You've got to work," he pleaded, releasing his hold and slipping to the floor. "I don't want any more deaths."

And even though he was finding it harder and harder to breathe, he forced himself back to his feet, stumbling across the room like someone who'd had more than one too many drinks. He tripped and fell, and it seemed like the floor really wanted to be his friend today, considering how fast it was rushing up to meet him.

He groaned and rolled over, pain pulsing through his head. His vision was blurring, the room spinning in ever tightening circles. Then, he heard a noise, and at first he thought it was some kind of auditory hallucination caused by oxygen starvation.

But it was real – the TARDIS was materialising, his hair blowing back from the force of the landing. The blue door opened, and Brittany stepped out.

"Doctor, get over here right now!"


	11. Fallings Out and Makings Up

**A/N: Just wrapping this story up. Two more chapters after this one. Shoopdawoop!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. And, despite all those wishes I make to my genie, it doesn't look like it's going to happen any time soon.

* * *

**

CHAPTER ELEVEN: FALLINGS OUT AND MAKINGS UP

The Doctor slowly rose to his feet, leaning heavily on a nearby computer terminal for support. "Not yet," he muttered. "There's still time to save them!"

"Doctor!" Brittany cried, stepping out of the time ship, Ben at her side. "We have to go."

"No," the Time Lord objected, stumbling further away, "no, I won't! You can't make me!"

Brittany and Ben looked at each other and, with unspoken agreement, ran towards the Doctor, his companion going to the left and the young soldier to the right. With nowhere to run, the Doctor struggled like a cornered animal against their grip. There was nothing he could do however, as they led him, with great difficulty, back to his waiting timeship.

"Doctor, you're delirious!" Brittany insisted, forcing the Doctor into the console room chair, while simultaneously knocking the handbrake with her foot. "We had to get you out of there."

With a scowl, the Doctor darted past both her and Ben, laying his hands on the console. "The Thoraln were innocent," he growled, his back turned. "They couldn't help the things they did. You didn't have to kill them." His voice was controlled, emotionless, but the shaking of his shoulders showed the true extent of his anger.

Brittany stepped forward defiantly, hands clenched into fists by her side. "There was no choice!" she shot back. "The EMP was the only thing that could knock out the mind control-"

"I had it under control!" the Doctor roared as he span around, anger flashing in his deep brown eyes. "Everything was going fine until you interfered! You stupid little human!" He jabbed a finger into her chest with enough force to send her reeling backwards. "A stunted little ape who thinks that she knows best. Just asking for trouble, aren't you?" His stance was aggressive, daring her to fight back.

And fight she did. "Well, this stunted little ape might not know everything, but don't pretend you do either, you spaceman!" she retorted, drawing herself up to her full height. "Your big mouth causes more trouble than in solves. And if it hadn't been for me, you would have suffocated!"

"If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have needed rescuing," the Doctor spat, glaring at her with hooded eyes. "And don't ever call me spaceman, you hear? Never."

The room fell into an awkward silence, Brittany realising that she had overstepped her mark, broaching a sore subject. The normally bright Time Lord turned his back on her in favour of working on the console, pushing buttons with more attention than was required.

"I'm sorry," Brittany said quietly, backing away both from the fight and the controls, "for calling you spaceman."

Without turning around, the Doctor replied sincerely, "And I'm sorry for calling you a stunted little ape."

"I'm glad you're okay," Brittany continued, fingering the circular pendent that always hung around her neck.

The Doctor nodded, and shot her a wink. "Me too."

His companion grinned. "Thanks," she said happily, before the meaning of his words actually started to sink in. "Hold on, are you happy that I'm okay, or that you're okay?"

He just gave her an enigmatic smile, and pulled down on a lever, bringing the TARDIS to a grinding halt. "Go take a look," he said, jerking his head towards the door.

With a shrug, Brittany bounded down to the doors, drawing them inwards with one smooth movement. Outside, the planet Messaline hung suspended in space, clouds slowly swirling across the surface as the wind whipped up coiling patterns. The sun peeked up over the horizon, a shimmering golden brilliance, a flare of light and colour after a dark night of bloodshed.

Brittany's breath caught in her chest. "It's beautiful," she intoned, captivated by the sight. Ben moved to stand beside her, staring outwards in silent wonder.

Then, something moved across their view, a dark grey shape with stubby wings and a pointed nose. The Sky Rider spaceship moved on listlessly through space, suspended in orbit, even though there was no one left to pilot her.

It was the Doctor that broke the silence. "We may not be able to save the Thoraln," he said, a stolid figure rooted up near the console, "but the least we can do is send them home." He scratched his repair mallet through his unruly hair. "All they need is a good bop." And, with that, he brought the mallet down onto a panel of switches with an audible thump. The TARDIS jumped back by about three metres, almost sending Ben and Brittany tumbling out into space.

The Doctor righted his time ship, and all three watched as the Thoraln's spacecraft began to move, slowly at first, but gaining speed. "Just gave them a little push," the Doctor explained as Brittany closed the blue doors. "Should send them all the way back to Thorah." He let the two humans have some time to absorb what they had just seen, before he grabbed Ben by the hand and dragged him up into the centre of the room.

"I don't believe we've met," the alien said cheerfully, throwing the young soldier's arm around in a loose imitation of a handshake. "I'm the Doctor, planet-saver extraordinaire!"

"Ben sir –"

"Doctor. Never sir. And most certainly never Sir Doctor. Man, that was a day and a half. I mean, werewolf and everything!" The Doctor grinned like a loon, and used his foot to yank a lever into a horizontal position. "So, Ben… Ben what?"

The young man shifted nervously, but he couldn't help but smile. The Doctor's babbling was one of the most amusing things he'd heard. "It's Mitchells. Ben Mitchells."

The Doctor frowned for a moment, then leapt almost a foot in the air. "Ben Mitchells!" he cried, energetically punching in some coordinates. "I think I know your mother. Not in the way you're thinking though. Actually, what are you thinking? Not anything dirty, I hope?"

"Andrea?" Ben managed to say before he was thrown to the floor by the Doctor's often over-enthusiastic piloting skills.


	12. Homecoming

**A/N: I'm heading into assessment season, so my updates will be more sporadic than usual. I'll try and get as many chapters up over the weekend as I can, 'cos I'll have to get into some serious work next week. In the mean time, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. Repeat: Do not. EVER.

* * *

**

CHAPTER TWELVE: HOMECOMING

The eerie quiet of early morning was torn asunder by a rhythmic screeching groan, the unmistakable sound of time being warped and twisted. A tall blue box, with the words 'police public call box' stencilled across the top in large backlit letters, materialised seemingly out of nowhere, whipping up the litter lining the gutter in a flurry of shiny plastics. Ben emerged from the time ship first, stepping out into a cold pre-dawn world where his breath was visible and nothing moved. It looked just like any other street, but he recognised it – it was home.

"Mum?" he called, tentatively at first, but gaining in confidence each time he spoke. "Mum! Are you there? It's Ben!"

A figure emerged from the grey shadows, resolving itself into the shape of a woman. "Ben?" Andrea said in disbelief. "Is that you?"

The Doctor and Brittany stepped out of the TARDIS just in time to see the two inhabitants of Messaline charge towards each other and embrace, Ben lifting him mother clean into the air.

"What d'ya think of him?" Brittany asked quietly, folding her arms and leaning against the TARDIS doorframe.

The Doctor shrugged and jammed his hands into his trouser pockets. "Very able by the sounds of things, but we can't have him."

Brittany looked crestfallen. "Why not? You worried he'll steal your thunder?"

"No one can steal my thunder," the Doctor pointed out. "And anyway, if we take Ben we'll have to take his mum too, 'cos I can't see him leaving her behind, not so soon after finding her again. That would mean four of us in the TARDIS."

"You have the room."

"If two's company and three's a crowd, what's four?" the Doctor remarked, deftly disregarding the question. "The answer's no. Look at the trouble we got into today! If I had to look after three of you bumbling humans… I've tried it before, and trust me, it's not pretty."

"Okay, okay, you've proved your point," Brittany conceded, scuffing her shoe on the road surface. "You know you look ridiculous, don't you?"

"Do I?" The Doctor looked down, and seemed to notice for the first time that his jacket was missing and that of his suit, he only had his trousers, a white shirt and a bow tie. "Alright, you win," he sighed, removing the bow tie and stuffing it into a pocket. "I'm gonna need a new jacket."

"What are you two conspiring about?"

Both time travellers looked up to see Andrea and Ben in front of them, the former having spoken to catch their attention.

"Oh you know – stuff," the Doctor said happily, waving his hand around in an airy manner. "Oh, and this is Brittany."

Andrea shook the Doctor's companion by the hand with a smile. "Well, I'm glad to see he found you."

"And it's good to see you're okay," the Doctor said, grinning.

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "I'm okay? You're the one who ran headfirst onto the Sky Rider spaceship, with no concern for personal safety whatsoever –"

"I have plenty of concern for personal safety," the Doctor interjected. "It just functions differently to most people's. You see, I have a concern for being too safe. I'm afraid that I might end up stuck inside some retirement home when I'm older, knitting doilies and trying to work out the best fertiliser to use when growing carrots."

"Can't get a word in edgewise," Brittany said with a heavily exaggerated roll of her eyes. "I might have to get him sectioned just to get away from his gob."

The Doctor glared at her, but bit back his retort. No need to stoop to her level. "So, I think that's about it," he said, hands finding their way back into his pockets. "The war's over now. You two gonna be alright here?"

"Don't worry about us," Andrea said with a smile. "We'll manage. New life and all that. You can fly off back to where you came from, and take your trouble elsewhere." She delivered the sentence with a jovial manner, not really putting meaning to the words, but something struck a chord deep inside the Doctor, and expression hardened.

"Yes, you're right, we best be off. Things to do, people to annoy." He pushed open the door to his ship. "Until next time?"

Both Ben and Andrea inclined their heads, and the Time Lord returned the gesture. Then, he and Brittany disappeared inside the blue box that was their disguised time ship. The heavy clank of ancient machinery shifting into place sent a resounding noise across the quiet street, followed by a rhythmic groaning as time was disturbed. The blue box began to disappear, the noise fading along with it, until the only memory of its passing was a whisper on the breeze.

Then, Andrea and her son turned towards the west to watch as dawn stole quietly across the horizon, the first of the unseen sun's rays tinting the bellies of the clouds vibrant pink and deep orange. It was a joyous sunrise, marking the end of a war, a concluding of bloodshed and carnage. It was the beginning of a new life for all on Messaline, especially so for the two mute figures that stood watching the day begin.

When the Doctor touches someone, he changes them irrevocably, whether for better or for worse. It was not a conscious act; it was just in his nature.

For these two, Andrea and Ben of Messaline, their lives had been changed – for the better.


	13. There's Always an Adventure Waiting

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. And neither do you. And if I'm wrong, and you do...please don't sue me! Eep! *hides behind rock*

* * *

**

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: AN ADVENTURE IS ALWAYS WAITING

The TARDIS spun through the sparkling miasma that was the time vortex, trekking a course through the complicated threads of time, space and reality. Inside the craft, silence ensued, quiet except for the rhythmic groan as the central column wheezed up and down.

Brittany trailed her fingers across the yellow surface of the seat, tracing whorls in the fine coating of dust on the chair. "Doctor…" she began, rising to stand opposite him. "If this is about –"

He looked at her through the column. "Just leave it."

"But –"

"Just leave it, okay?" The Doctor returned to the controls with less than his usual enthusiasm. "We should just get to that party." He punched in some coordinates, but his hand paused halfway towards the handbrake, fingers slowly withdrawing. With a sigh, he lowered his hand, drumming his fingers on the creamy struts that formed the frame for the console. There was obviously something he needed to get off his chest.

Brittany reached over and gently touched his hand. "Doctor, is everything alright?"

"Me? Yeah, fine," he said a little too quickly. He sighed again, low and heartfelt. "No, not really."

His companion slowly moved around the edge of the console to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Can I help? Is it anything you want to talk about?"

"Just thinking about a friend of mine… I brought her here, to Messaline. Always a war on this planet, always a war." He shook his head. "You humans," he muttered, but Brittany could tell that he wasn't referring to humankind's capacity for war. No, it was something else; something… deeper. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Doctor cut her off without even looking at her.

"Never mind, it's all finished." He shifted his weight so he was leaning heavily on the console. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Brittany bit her lip, desperately wanting to say something more, but decided not to. Whoever this friend of the Doctor's had been, it was obviously still a sore subject. And, even though he was an alien that she hardly understood at all, she didn't want to hurt him.

"There's one thing I still don't understand," she said at last. "If a single missile could have ended the war, why didn't they fire one earlier?"

The Doctor forced out a smile to gloss over his pain, truly glad for the change of subject. "You see, that's kind of my fault," he explained, tugging at the collar of his clean brown suit. "The Thoraln spaceship would have had defence systems and force fields, but I, well, I kind of shorted out their systems. Had to divert all their power to essential things like life support. Suppose they hoped that Messaline wouldn't do anything."

"There's something else I wanted to know."

"Yes?"

"I mean, Sky Riders? What was that all about?"

The Doctor grinned. "A cultural question, hey?" he said jubilantly, slipping back into his usual self. "Funny you should ask that. You see, the 'Sky Riders' come from the planet Thorah, but they don't have what you could call advanced technology. No spaceships, no aeroplanes, no computers, no gunpowder, no telecommunications. They haven't even discovered chips! Though, that may be because there are no potatoes on Thorah."

He shrugged. "Anyway, as I was saying, the Thoraln don't have a word for astronauts or pilots. However, they do have a way to describe the ones that fly the airships on their planet, ships that ride on air currents instead of sea currents." He waved his hand. "All rather complicated.

"These elite Thoraln are known as 'krakljal' – bit of a mouthful I know – translating literally to 'the ones who ride the sky.' Sky Riders." The Doctor stopped, obviously self-satisfied.

Brittany just goggled at him. "That's the last time I ask you a 'cultural question'."

The Doctor had the grace to look sheepish. "Got a bit carried away there, did I?"

"Yes you did," Brittany remarked. "Far too much information thanks, mister walking encyclopaedia." She poked him in the arm. "Didn't you want to get to that party of yours?"

He nodded, once again reaching for the handbrake, but his hand paused, almost touching the lever. It was as if he couldn't bring himself to release the brake. "I always thought Lenny was a bit of a snob. Bet his friends are too." He smiled at Brittany, his usual rebellious glint sparking in his eyes. "Don't know about you, but I feel like a spot of gatecrashing."

"Sounds like an adventure," Brittany replied with a smile.

The Doctor's hand finally closed on the handbrake. "Oh, it'll be a great adventure; you can be sure about that."


	14. Next Time

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: NEXT TIME…**

The Doctor twiddled absently with the controls. "…hold on, what's that?"

Brittany groaned. "Oh, let me guess – alien signal from Earth."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Definitely something unusual. Can't quite decipher it but I can trace it…coming from… New Zealand. Auckland in fact."

* * *

"Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod," Sam Taylor chanted under his breath as he pounded down the footpath, narrowly avoiding major injuries for himself as well as other pedestrians.

He couldn't believe it! It wasn't possible, it just wasn't possible! An actual real alien spacecraft, here in Auckland.

* * *

"Ship started out from the Aerin Cluster, and used rift technology to complete the journey." The Doctor tapped his fingers across the keyboard. "'Scout Ship Llarindaal K-34, en route from Shadooth system; planet of origin, Kowaric…Kowaric? But that means…Ma'ark!

* * *

"We have to find Sam Taylor, because the Ma'ark seem to have an interest in them. And people the Ma'ark take an interest in usually end up missing vital parts of their anatomy." He gave Brittany a dark look. "Namely, their heads."

* * *

There was something chasing him. Normally, he would have assumed it was his friends trying to give him a bit of a scare, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't so sure of anything anymore, not after what he'd seen.

Sam Taylor was running for his life.

* * *

Sam caught a glimpse of a patch of darker shadow, the impression of wings, clashing mandibles and light glinting off compound eyes before the creature leapt at him.

And still he was turning, not nearly fast enough.

Sam's only hope lies with a man he doesn't know, a man who calls himself 'the Doctor'. However, the Doctor was a lot closer than he realised.

* * *

The Doctor and Brittany will return in **Fractured Glass**, for more alien-ass-kicking adventures. HAI-YAH!


End file.
